


Sign From You

by NewEyes



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Frottage, M/M, artist!Len
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:39:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6547264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewEyes/pseuds/NewEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Most people would never guess that Len had artistic talent. Ask any of the Rogues and they would tell you that Len's hobbies were drinking in bars and playing pool. Lisa...well, she knew he could draw but they'd never had enough money for paints and canvas as a kid, and he never talked much about his painting as an adult. Mick sort of knew, they'd known each other for twenty years after all and he'd seen Len sketching in downtime. But Mick didn't come around much anymore. Oh, they still worked together professionally but Len hadn't seen Mick outside of work in months."</p><p>After they've finished fighting Savage, Mick and Len come back to Central City and figure out how they're going to move forward. Set vaguely post LoT season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sign From You

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how LoT season 1 is going to end, hopefully this won't get jossed too badly. Written after 1x10, before 1x11.

It's been a long time

And I've got no axe to grind with you

But goddamn it, man, this hatchet

Won't stay buried without some sign from you (sign from you)

 

 

Most people would never guess that Len had artistic talent. Ask any of the Rogues and they would tell you that Len's hobbies were drinking in bars and playing pool. Lisa...well, she knew he could draw but they'd never had enough money for paints and canvas as a kid, and he never talked much about his painting as an adult. Mick sort of knew, they'd known each other for twenty years after all and he'd seen Len sketching in downtime. But Mick didn't come around much anymore. Oh, they still worked together professionally but Len hadn't seen Mick outside of work in months.

Most people knew he appreciated the art he stole and he judged that was fine. However painting and having an art room... just didn't quite fit with his image. But all the secrecy was coming back to bite him in the ass now, he realised, because something wasn't right, and he had no-one to talk to about it. There was something wrong with the hand the Waverider had regenerated for him. It wasn't something obvious that he could legitimately take to Rip and complain about, it seemed to be just as dexterous most of the time, just as strong and capable, but whenever he tried to paint with it...he just couldn't get the work to come out right.

It was creepy, as if someone had come in the night and stolen his real hand, replaced it with another, like a changeling in a folk tale. Just hoping that he wouldn't notice. It was slightly paler than the rest of his body, there were no scars, no knicks, no calluses. No evidence of the rest of his life.

The fighting was over and he was back in Central City for the next few months, he could take some time to himself. He'd been looking forward to sitting down in his art room with the big wide windows that looked out over the city and just painting. But it _wasn't working_. He banged his hand down on the table next to his stool and paint went flying. He stormed out of the room, slammed the door, and didn't look back.

*

It was strange being back after months away. So long for him but no time at all for Central City, it was still the same; same streets, same people, same fucking pigeons everywhere. The Flash and the Rogues were still around exactly where he'd left them, and there was a Leonard Snart shaped hole just waiting for him. But he was reluctant to step back into that role, instead he spent his days drinking and his nights in restless sleep where he dreamt black, shapeless dreams, that somehow reminded him of his time with the Legends.

After a few months of moping punctuated with the occasional visit from Lisa, he just said screw it. He could feel his mind getting duller, it needed exercise, and what better way than planning a new heist? There was a wonderful new painting in the Central City museum that just called out for him to steal it but no, he didn't fancy thinking about art right now.

A bank then. Banks were complicated, a real challenge, a test of his skills. There were highly paid experts for every bank who considered all possible threats and how to prevent them, plus there was rarely a lot of cash held to be taken in the first place. There was the Flash's no killing rule in place which added another layer of difficulty, high risk for not much reward. Just a little cash, and whatever he could scoop up from the safety deposit boxes. Len had plenty of wealth now, he didn't need to take jobs just for the money, but it would be a test and a challenge. No point getting the Rogues involved, there wasn't really enough money in it to make it worth their while.

*

He was poring over the plans in his office at the Rogues' safehouse when he sensed somebody else in the room. He looked up and saw Mick standing in the entrance, leaning against the door frame with folded arms.

"You planning another job?" Mick asked.

"Just a personal one. I'm not getting the Rogues involved in this," Len turned back to the plans.

He heard Mick walk forward until a shadow fell over the plans on the desk and Len looked up. Mick loomed over him. Mick was a big guy, he always loomed. Len felt his heart speed up and fought the urge to swallow.

"I'm coming with you." Mick was obstinate.

"What? No, this is just a personal job. There wouldn't be much pay in it."

"I'm your partner." Len could hear the unspoken question 'aren't I?'. "That means I'm with you when you pull a job. So this one doesn't pay much. I'm sure the next one will."

Len could feel himself relenting, but he put up one last token effort at resistance. "There won't be opportunities for you to use your gun. I'm not planning on hurting anyone and I don't want to set the place on fire, just rob it."

Mick just shrugged casually. "Whatever you say, boss." Len held Mick's gaze for a few moments and then sighed, already thinking about how to fit Mick into his plans. But part of him was pleased. They were still partners, despite everything. They weren't back to normal yet, but this was a sign that Mick at least wanted to try. They could pull a good heist together, just the two of them, like it used to be.

*

The alarm howled through the vault as the doors started to come down. There were only a few seconds to decide what to do. Len turned and swiftly pointed his gun at the mechanism at the top of the lowering door. If he could freeze it maybe he could stop the doors coming down just long enough for them to escape. He aimed and fired. But in the last millisecond before he pressed the trigger his hand wavered, and the blast went low. The door came down with a resounding clang, trapping them in the vault. Len slowly turned to Mick standing behind him, two large bags filled with cash over his shoulder. Mick looked surprised, and dropped the bags on the floor of the vault with a thump.

"Never know you to miss an easy shot like that before."

Len felt the frustration building up in him, it was true, he hadn't missed a shot like that in a while, but he wasn't a marksman, it happened. But...was it the hand that had caused him to miss the shot, or was it just him, he wondered. He fought the urge to glance at the hand, but he'd been thinking about it lately. Was it the physical hand that caused him to struggle with drawing, or was it just something psychological in him?

"It's rare for a plan of yours to fail too," Mick said.

Len just scowled at him. "Well, it did, are you disappointed? If you recall, I wasn't planning on bringing you along." Mick's face was impassive and showed nothing, but Len knew he was being unnecessarily cruel.

"You always did before."

"Yes, well, this isn't before, is it?" Len felt the volume of his voice rising, and forced himself to keep calm. "This isn't helping. We need to keep calm and think of a way to get out of here."

Mick stared at him, like he was seeing him for the first time. "What's going on with you Lenny?"

Len couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, but it wasn't a pretty one. "What's going on with me? What's going on with you?" It was as if some wall that had been holding all of his frustrations back was crumbling. So they were having this conversation now.

"What do you mean?" Mick said slowly.

"Well, how about how I betrayed you, you betrayed me, then you decided to hunt me through time and try kill me! And here we are, back in Central as if we'd never left, and you want us to what? Just go back to the way it was?"

"I thought we fixed this when we fought on the Waverider."

"Right," Len laughed again. "So we exchange a few blows and we just forget that I marooned you, you threatened Lisa and tried to kill me?" Len took in a breath and finally looked down at the new hand and Mick followed his gaze. "I lost my hand. You've been alive for hundreds of years, and you're happy for everything to go back to the way it was before we fought? That's fine by me but...I don't understand why you want that."

"I haven't forgotten any anything that happened" Mick said slowly, shifting uncomfortably. "But a lot of my memory has blurred and faded. When you live that long, memory is a strange thing. My life, it's a strange concept. I remember the end, back with you Legends, and I remember the beginning, growing up on Earth with you, stealing and burning stuff," Mick reminisced. "Together."

"We're not the same people we were. You think you can just fit back into the same role?" Len was jealous of Mick. "I don't know if I can."

"So what? You're going to turn goody good and be a hero?"

"Don't be stupid, of course not," Len snapped.

Mick ignored his harsh, defensive tone. "Then what?"

"I don't know," Len shook his head. "I don't know." The alarm was still wailing overhead, and Mick stepped a little closer, peering at Len's arm.

"You had a new hand when you visited me in the cell. That something they can do on the Waverider, grow new arms?"

 "Yeah, but...." Some of his uncertainty must have shown in his face, and Mick picked up on it.

"Oh." Mick paused. "What, there something wrong with the hand?"

"It just doesn't feel right sometimes." It felt like a poor excuse.

Frown lines appeared on Mick's forehead."You should make Rip give you a better one." Len knew Mick would never straight up apologize, would never show his concern in such an obvious way, but Len could tell he felt bad.

Len shook his head. "I have no idea where he is now. Even if we could find him, I'm not so sure it's a physical problem that he could solve."

Mick stepped forward again and reached out for Len's hand slowly, as if he was expecting Len to move away. When he did nothing. Mick grabbed his hand and brought it up to his face to have a closer look.

"Huh," Mick said, and just stared for a few seconds, turning it slightly.

"Are you done staring at my hand?" Len asked. He meant it to come out exasperated but it just came out quietly instead. He didn't pull his hand away. He was waiting to see what Mick would do.

Mick held his gaze for a few moments and then bent forward and dropped a featherlight kiss to the back of his hand. Barely there, just a light brush of lips, but Len felt his heart beating as if he'd just run a race.

Of course, that was when the wailing siren stopped and the door to the vault began to open again. Len could see a little of the room outside of the vault, and it was filled with cops, guns trained on them.

"Hands in the air!" someone yelled, and Rory turned away, and raised his arms in the air. His eyes flickered over to Len's, and his face was serious. Len raised his arms above his head too.

"To be continued later?" he murmured out of the corner of his mouth, so that only they could hear. The cops started to move into the vault, but Len saw a small grin appear briefly on Mick's face.

*

A few hours later they'd escaped police custody (with a little help from one or two Rogues) and they headed back to Len's flat. It was the first time Mick'd been in his flat for months.

"Why didn't you come to visit me here when we got back?" Len asked, toeing off his shoes by the door and heading for the kitchen. "Like you used to do before."

Mick followed him. "Didn't really know if you would want that."

"What?"

"You know, we fixed things but we didn't really fix 'em. We worked together, but I didn't know if you would 'preciate me showing up at your flat uninvited."

Len got out two glasses and poured them both a drink. They stood in his kitchen sipping whisky, leaning against the counters.

"Mmm, nice. Burns like fire." Mick said, and Len snorted. When Len smiled, a pleased smirk appeared on Mick's face.

"So, 'bout earlier," Mick said and stepped closer to Len. "You okay with that?"

Len set his glass on the counter and stepped into Mick's arms. "Yeah Mick. Maybe we can't go back to the way things were exactly. But we might be able to move forward." Mick's arms came up around him, and then they were kissing. Len let his instincts take over and he licked his way inside Mick's mouth and then managed to get hand up Mick's shirt, running fingers across his abs. He'd seen Mick shirtless before but now he could finally touch he couldn't help a small gasp. Mick himself seemed to be having a great time with Len's ass, squeezing and hauling him closer, and they pressed and moved against each other tightly. After a few moments, Len pulled back, and moved them towards the bedroom.

"Looks like things are heating up." Mick said, and Len snorted as they entered his bedroom.

"It seems like you're going to get all the best sex puns. Hot, heat, burning passion, on fire..." he turned back to look at Mick and he wasinterrupted him with a kiss, the rest of his words were lost. They quickly stripped out of their clothes until were both standing naked together in Len's bedroom. There was a pause as they took each other in, Len's eyes skimming over Mick's naked form. Neither of them were inexperienced and Len had been with many people before, there was no reason for him to be uncertain.

But he'd never been with Mick before. The steady constant presence by his side for the last twenty years. Len'd always prided himself on self reliance, but he would be lying if he didn't admit that Mick had always been by his side when they were young, helping him, looking out for him. Len had done the same in return.

Neither of them were particularly young anymore but whenever he looked at Mick he could still see that same fiery young man who just wanted stuff to burn. He wondered if Mick was thinking about the scrawny young teenager Len had been when they'd met, if he was wondering, as Len did, how on Earth they'd survived and managed to get to this moment. In a strange way, Len felt almost shy.

Mick reached out took his hand, pulling him onto the bed. They ended up on their sides, facing each other and Mick mouthed along his neck pressing small biting kisses into his skin, Len sighed and tilted his head to allow better access. His hands smoothed over Mick's head as the man slowly licked and kissed his way downwards until reached Len's nipple. Mick gave it an exploratory lick and then pressed his hot mouth over it sucking gently, and Len's breath stuttered. One of Mick's hands was resting on his thigh and he slowly dragged it upward towards Len's cock, sending sparks through him. When Mick finally grasped him and started slowly stroking him Len couldn't help the quiet moan.

He pulled at Mick's arm until Mick moved across and on top of him, and Mick dropped his hips so their cocks were aligned. Len reached between them and held them both together in his hand as Mick thrust and moved rhythmically on top of him, dicks sliding together. He couldn't help the noises that came out of his mouth, but Mick was moaning too and it was so hot he didn't care.

Len came first, and it didn't take long. It had been a good few months since he'd been with somebody, and years since somebody that he'd actually gave a damn about. Because however much they tried to deny it to each other, themselves, left it unspoken, there was a connection between them, always had been. Deeper than just criminal and hired muscle.

Mick had stilled slightly to watch Len come undone but he was still hard, pressing against Len's thigh. Len quickly pushed Mick onto his back and flipped their positions, so he was on top. He worked his way down Mick's body until his head was level with Mick's cock. Teasingly he flicked out his tongue and swirled it around the head.

"Len," he heard Mick moan, and a hand fell to the top of his head, not pushing or guiding, just a light pressure. After that, Len quickly took him into his mouth. Mick was already close and didn't last long, moaning Len's name a minute later as he came. Len just lay there looking up at Mick until Mick's breathing slowed and he opened his eyes. He hauled Len up for a sloppy kiss, and then they lay side by side and Len could feel sleep coming on fast. They were messy though, and he didn't want to go to sleep like that and have it dry all over him. He got up, retrieved a cloth from the bathroom and wiped them both clean. When he tried to leave to put the cloth back Mick reached over, grabbed his hand and pressed a small kiss to the palm, almost the same as he had many hours earlier when they had been trapped in he bank vault. Their eyes met for a moment. 

Len ditched the cloth and then came back to the bed. Mick was already dozing off, they would need to talk tomorrow, and figure out how it was going to be, what they were going to do. One night wouldn't fix everything. But for now...sleep. Just before he drifted off, he realised that in the past hour he'd been with Mick, he hadn't thought or worried about the hand once.

*

Len slept soundly, but woke only a few hours later. It was still dark, though the moon shone through the windows of his bedroom onto the bed, where he'd forgotten to draw the curtains. He lay there awake for a few moments until it became clear that he wasn't going to be sleeping for a while, so he got to his feet, pulled on PJs, and left the bedroom. He headed down the hall until he was standing outside the door to his art room. The door that had stayed closed for the last few months.

He opened the door and went inside. Everything was where he'd left it, paint had dried splattered on the floor from where he'd overturned his paint palette. He picked it up and set it aside. There were blank canvases stacked in the corner, and he grabbed one and attached it to the easel. He began to paint.

He lost himself to it, lost all sense of time, and when he painted, his hand flew across the canvas, exactly the way he wanted it to, conveying exactly what he wanted it to, all of the things he couldn't say out loud. When he came back to himself the sun was just peering over the horizon.

"Was wondering where you were," came a voice from the doorway, and Len turned to see Mick standing there in his boxers. "I didn't know you liked to do art. I mean, more than just those sketches in that black book that you have." Mick stepped further into the room, and looked around at all of the canvas' stacked to the side of the room. "This is different."

"I'm trying something new," Len said. "Abstract art."

Mick walked round to look at the canvas on the easel. "'s good," he said after staring at it for a few moments, but he looked a little unsure.

 "Do you know much about abstract art?" Len asked.

"No," Mick admitted. "But there's something about it....and you painted it. 'f course it's good. Doubt my opinion's worth much anyways, but I like it. What's it supposed to be?

"It's not really anything. Just how I feel tonight, about me. And you." Len was embarrassed. It was another reason he liked to keep his work private, it revealed too much of himself and there were very few people he trusted enough to see the real him.

Mick moved forward until he was right behind Len, and then placed his hand on his shoulder. They stood there like that for a while, just looking at the painting.

"Yeah," Mick said a few minutes later. "I like it."

Len stood up, turned and kissed him. The sun was just starting to rise, and a soft light started to fill the room. They weren't the same people they'd been when they'd joined Rip several months ago, it was time to stop trying to fit exactly back into the holes they'd left, as if that were really possible. He pulled back and brought his hand up to look at it. For better or for worse it was a part of him now, there was no point expecting everything to be exactly the same as it had been. Len stood up and smiled as Mick reached for his hand, and they stood together in the early morning light. Time to start creating something new.

 

**Author's Note:**

> http://xxxneweyesxxx.tumblr.com/


End file.
